


Boys Wanna Fight

by enigma731



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Female Friendship, Female-Centric, Gen, POV Female Character, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigma731/pseuds/enigma731
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times the ladies of Stark Industries kicked ass, plus one time they didn't have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys Wanna Fight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperdream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdream/gifts).



1.

The fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. is everywhere within minutes, news spreading faster than the smoke, thanks to the internet.

Pepper is in New York when it happens, having what’s started as a relatively complication-free day. She knows something is wrong when every digital device in her office begins singing in unison for attention, though honestly she’s expecting it to be the latest catastrophe of Tony’s when she clicks on the tab for her inbox. 

The first thing she feels is misguided relief, because for one fraction of an instant, she thinks that this might not be her problem. But it is, she realizes in the next beat. It’s _everyone’s_ problem, though she probably knows better than most the sorts of things their covert protectors have suppressed to the shadows. Taking a deep breath, she picks up the phone, preparing to put all the company’s security on red alert.

It’s two weeks later when she gets the application on her desk, two weeks of paranoia and exhaustive reporting, the world around Pepper struggling to come to terms with its newest reality. Aliens, it turns out, might not be so scary in comparison to all of the other things suddenly come to light. She cancels her scheduled meetings for the rest of the day, decides this hiring interview will be one she’ll need to complete in person.

Maria Hill cuts an imposing figure, even in the applicant’s chair that’s intimidated so many others before her. Today she looks fully composed, almost serene, her clothes immaculate, not a hair out of place, though Pepper knows she’s just witnessed the collapse of her world. It’s impressive, though Pepper’s expected nothing less, based on Maria’s reputation alone.

“Your cover letter says you’re interested in joining the SI security team,” says Pepper, by way of greeting. She folds herself neatly behind the desk and gives Maria the ghost of a smile. “I think we both know that you’re laughably over-qualified.”

“Yes,” says Maria, apparently deciding that she has no need for pleasantries here either. “About that. I have a proposal for you.”

Pepper leans back in her chair, taking a legal pad and a pen from the top drawer of the desk. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

2.

Twin Peaks might be the tackiest-named bar in Manhattan, but it’s far from the worst place Natasha has worked for a cover. Or that’s what she’s been telling herself, anyway. The place is a hole-in-the-wall, the veritable armpit of the city block. It’s owned by a college drop-out named Bryce who seems to think the keys to entrepreneurial success are cheap beer and a wait staff of girls in cheaper outfits. Tonight she’s dressed in green sequined shorts and a midriff-baring top with actual tassels attached to the bust, trying to avoid the many groping hands of the wasted frat boys who are packed into the tiny seating area.

“Hey baby!” one of them slurs, reaching out to drape an arm around her hip as she tries to squeeze past on her way back to the kitchen. He pulls her down roughly, sticking out an ankle to disrupt her balance.

Any other time, Natasha would teach this asshole a lesson, would be able to eat this kid alive. She can’t afford that sort of attention here, though, has actually chosen this job for the fact that it’s the last place anyone would expect to find a woman of her skill and proclivity. So she has no choice but to play the hapless waitress she’s created and allow herself to fall into her assailant’s lap. 

“Hey,” he repeats, laughing at his own apparent prowess and enveloping Natasha in stale-beer breath in the process. “Gimme a refill.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re out yet,” says Natasha, pointing to his mostly-full mug. She levels a coy smile at him. “You think I’d let you run dry?”

The kid doesn’t give up, though, instead decides to lift his mug and dump it down the front of her uniform, cackling uproariously as though he’s just discovered the world’s cleverest come-back. “Need one now!”

Natasha jumps to her feet, taken aback by the sudden beer shower. She shakes some of the suds from her arm and tries to remember all of the very good reasons why public murder would be a bad idea right now. 

She doesn’t get the chance to respond, though, barely has time to step out of the way as another deluge of beer hits the kid from behind, thoroughly drenching him from head to toe.

“What the hell?” he yelps, stumbling off of his stool.

Only then does Natasha register the towering silhouette of Pepper Potts in the dim lighting. She’s standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Maria, both women holding a now-empty pint glass in each hand. She hasn’t seen them come in, she realizes, disorientation mixing with the satisfaction she feels seeing this idiot beaten at his own game. 

“Hi Natalie,” says Pepper, handing her a pile of napkins. “I know you decided the secretary thing wasn’t working out, but you could have done better than this hell hole.”

3.

It might not be what she pictured when she joined Stark Industries, but Maria has to admit that having an office in the newly-renovated Avengers Tower has its perks. The view, for one thing, is excellent--both that of the New York skyline outside, and of a certain Asgardian who prefers to train in sleeveless tunics. Not to mention the fact that it makes her neighbors with Natasha and Pepper, who are always willing to offer a sympathetic ear or something to punch when the world gets to be just a little too frustrating.

Today she thinks she might need both, the throbbing ache at the base of her skull increasing as she works her way through a series of reports on Senator Ward’s recent death, the attacks around the world by the HYDRA goon squad hiding behind the cover of the S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia. She might not be affiliated anymore--at least publicly--but she still feels her blood boil again at every appearance of the word _terrorist_ in the same sentence with her former organization. She wonders for a moment how Fury’s managing to keep his silence through it all, wherever he is.

Somehow she misses the sound of footsteps in the hallway, accustomed now to sharing her space with others. The knock on her door makes her jump, though, because she’s purposely cleared her schedule of any interruptions for the rest of the morning. 

“Hi there!” says the man who’s apparently come to distract her, when Maria grudgingly opens her door. He’s tall and lanky, the kind of build that makes him look like he’s never quite managed to finish puberty. He also has a mop of unruly blond hair and a visitor badge that tells Maria his name is John. She has never seen him before and definitely hasn’t been expecting his arrival.

“Turn it down about three notches,” Maria tells his hundred-watt smile. “And start by explaining who you are and how you got cleared to be up here.”

“John,” says John, pointing to his nametag as if she might not be able to read. “I’m a reporter, doing a story on the new Avengers Initiative. Security downstairs said it would be fine for me to come up and chat with you!”

Maria sighs, making a mental note to murder everyone at the desk downstairs. “If you want to talk, you need an appointment. And I’m not the one you want anyway.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” says John, enthusiasm apparently completely undampened. “But since I’m here already, maybe I could just grab a couple of soundbites?”

“No,” Maria answers coldly. “You can go back downstairs and make an appointment.”

“Okay,” says John. “But I just have to say, I am _such_ a fan of yours specifically.” He takes another step forward, and suddenly all her internal alarm bells are screaming. He’s looking over her shoulder, she realizes, at the reports on the surface of her desk, his gaze honing in on the word S.H.I.E.L.D. in one of the subject lines.

“No you’re not,” says Maria, moving so that her body blocks his view. “How about you tell me what you’re really doing here?”

The energy shifts in the air between them, breathless enthusiasm gaining an edge of deadly precision. John--which she’s certain now is not his real name--pulls a CIA badge from his pocket and flashes it in her face. “Just a guy looking to ask a few questions. For example--Tell me, Ms. Hill, is it true that you’ve been using the resources and financing of Stark Industries to support S.H.I.E.L.D. fugitives?”

“You have a warrant?” asks Maria, staring him down. “Or a court order? Because if not, I suggest you leave before I show you what the _resources and financing_ of Stark Industries can do with a lawsuit.”

John stands firm for another moment before backing down, evidently deciding that this particular tactic isn’t going to work as well as he’s previously thought. She’s sure this won’t be the last time she’s questioned by one of the Feds, though. Far from it.

“This isn’t over,” he says predictably, then turns back toward the elevator.

“JARVIS,” says Maria, as she moves back toward her desk. “Please make sure our guest finds his way back out the door immediately.”

4.

“We need to talk about the new line,” Pepper tells the image of the sales rep currently patched into a video conference her computer monitor. Andy, she remembers from previous conversations of this nature.

“Okay,” he agrees, though it’s clear from his tone that he’s expected this to go smoothly, has expected Pepper to simply sign the stack of contractual paperwork currently in her inbox without any sort of discussion. “You got the prototypes I sent last week?”

“Yes,” she answers, grabbing the box from under her desk and holding it up for him to see. She sighs. On the ever-growing list of her responsibilities, Pepper has not expected management of the Avengers’ merchandizing to be quite such a pain in the ass.

Andy nods. “So what’s your concern?”

“The Black Widow figure,” says Pepper, grabbing the offending doll from the top of the box and holding it up in view of the webcam. 

“What’s the problem with it?”

Pepper raises an eyebrow and levels a disgusted glance at the toy in question. “Seriously? First of all, no living woman has proportions like this. Second, any female operative who wore a suit unzipped this far would be risking both a direct shot to the chest and a serious wardrobe malfunction. And finally, who taught your designers what breasts look like? Because I’m fairly certain these were actually based on a scale model of a couple watermelons.”

Andy clears his throat, oviously trying not to show his defensive instincts over her accusations. “And what does Ms. Romanoff think of the figurine?”

“Nothing,” Pepper says crisply. “Because I haven’t shown it to her. And you’d better hope that I don’t, if you like all your body parts in one piece. Are we clear?”

He pales at that, swallowing so hard it’s obvious even on the screen. “Your complaints have been noted and will be addressed immediately.”

“Good,” says Pepper, giving him a tight little smile. “I’m glad we understand one another.”

5.

“Police are eight miles out, should be here in less than ten minutes,” says Natasha, as she hangs up the phone. “Not that there’s any rush.”

The Tower’s ground floor is currently in disarray, littered with the unconscious bodies of a half dozen HYDRA goons and a few pieces of overturned furniture. It’s a smaller group than usual, probably a splinter cell looking to seize any strategic opportunity against the Avengers. Apparently they’ve deemed this evening a good time for an attack, with all of the men out on their weekly bowling night. In reality they barely lasted more than a few minutes, but at least it’s been a half-decent workout, Natasha decides.

“Sure there’s a rush,” says Pepper, retrieving the high-heeled pumps she’s kicked off into a corner during the brief fight. “I don’t want them staining the carpets.”

Maria snorts, flipping the safety back onto her gun before slipping it into the holster that’s still her constant companion. It’s been nearly a year since she last wore a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform, but some habits die hard. “You’d think there’d be more of them in custody by now than out on the streets.”

“Cut off one head,” says Natasha, bending to zip tie the wrists of the man nearest her feet. She’ll do them all, she decides, as a favor to local law enforcement, and also because she rather enjoys making HYDRA supporters as uncomfortable as possible. Not that there’s much danger of any of these thugs waking up anytime soon.

“Don’t,” Maria groans. “If I never had to hear that again, I could die happy.”

Natasha laughs, quickly binding her mark’s ankles too, for good measure. “Don’t say that. It’s going to come true soon if I have anything to say about it.”

“How about nobody dies tonight,” says Pepper. “Less paperwork all around that way.”

“Fair point,” Maria agrees.

The wail of a siren is beginning to rise in the distance outside, probably the police finally catching up. At least they still serve as a decent clean-up crew when the action’s finished, Natasha thinks. 

The Tower’s proximity alarm that goes off a beat later startles her, though, because she’s fairly certain the squad car isn’t close enough yet. She jumps back as the door swings open, revealing Tony fully decked out in his latest suit.

“Got a call from JARVIS,” he says immediately, in the tone that means his adrenaline is still running ahead of his rational mind. “We’re under attack?”

“We _were_ under attack,” Pepper corrects, gesturing to the bodies on the floor. “But we’ve got it covered here.“

“There might be more,” says Tony, holding up the palm of his suit to initiate some sort of scan. 

“Then we’ll handle those too,” says Natasha.

Pepper nods. “Go back to bowling night. The police will be here in a minute, and we all know how you feel about talking to them.”

Tony deflates, evidently having finished his threat assessment and satisfied himself that the world isn’t about to end, for the moment. “No point. Rogers and Barton have already annihilated me. There must be something you need me to do here instead.”

“Sure,” Pepper says sweetly. “Take off the suit and order dinner for all of us.”

+1

She might spend the majority of her time in New York now, but Pepper is still forced to admit that the west coast has its moments, and lying on the beach with the two women she’s come to view as her own personal team is definitely one of them. For once she doesn’t have her phone, doesn’t have her tablet, and is utterly unreachable by the rest of the world. The apocalypse might come, but she’ll be blissfully unaware.

“Time to break out the wine?” asks Natasha, sitting up to open the cooler without waiting for a response. 

Pepper nods, getting cups out of the bag they’ve brought. There’s chocolate, too, and cookies, but there will be time enough for those things later. She watches Natasha pour--effortlessly precise, like everything else she does. 

Maria accepts a cup and raises it in a little salute. “To one year with Stark Industries.”

“To a year together,” says Natasha, toasting Maria delicately.

“To ruling the world,” says Pepper, and downs her wine as she listens to the others laugh, the sound carried away to the horizon on the surface of the waves.


End file.
